


A Second Thread

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-06-10 21:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15300357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Disclaimer: this writer owns nothing. The characters belong to J.K.Rowling.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: this writer owns nothing. The characters belong to J.K.Rowling.

Hermione had had her newest dress, matching hair ribbon and backpack ready the week before. And she’d finished reading all her textbooks a week before that. She brushed her hair until her eyes watered and she polished her Mary Janes to a shine. 

She remained awake long into the night, thinking of what the morning would bring: her first day in her new school, new things to learn, and maybe –and this she held in the deepest part of her heart– the chance to make new friends.

They were whispering about her by the first period, calling her names by the second. At play time, they pulled her hair and pushed her to the ground.  
At the end of the school day, when the other kids headed in groups and couples in the direction of the nice nearby suburban where her home stood, Hermione turned alone on the opposite way. She trekked past the bony trees with the plastic bags stuck in their branches, and picked up her pace when she reached the dark bricked homes. 

He came running towards her the moment she entered the playground, his dark hair and big coat whipping around and behind his scrawny body. 

Hermione took one look at the dear sallow face, and she sobbed. 

***

Her family had moved to the new housing project on the upside of Cokeworth the summer before. And Hermione, avoiding certain girls and their exclusive tea parties, had left their green park with the shiny slides and walked all the way to the old communal playground on the other side of town. 

From there, they were trussed up together by nothing but their respective natures. 

Hermione had walked to a gnarled tree on the far corner, and made herself comfortable against its trunk. The other kids’ cries and shouts sounding far away, she soon forgot herself in the book open on her knees. She was sitting by the firelight, a big furry dog at her feet, while she studied the shadowy profile of her mysterious and broody master. 

A few feet away a small boy with greasy long hair and mismatched clothes had tensed when he first saw a girl coming close. But left unperturbed, he’d relaxed and returned to his beer bottles and tin cans, stirring a greenish mixture with a Popsicle stick. In his own corner of the debilitated park, Severus was the greatest potions master of all time.

Hermione didn’t think much of it when the strange kid moved a bit closer to her spot after a few days. And when one day she turned and found him reading over her shoulder from the book in her lap, she shrugged and hefted the book higher on her knees.

They’d commiserated over having odd names that the other kids could never manage to pronounce right, and they’d bonded over books. After a week, Hermione was chattering to any who would hear about her new friend, and Severus was besotted. 

***

Hermione had buried her face in the bony chest of her friend, and as such she didn’t see his hands fluttering anxiously over her back or the panicky look in his eyes.

“Are you hurt? Are you bleeding somewhere?”

She shook her head and buried her nose deeper in his sweater. It had little holes in it, and smelled of the musty odor of clothes kept in a closet for a long time. But underneath it all was the familiar scent of Severus and it calmed her. 

His hands finally settled on her shoulders, and he pushed her gently back. “Hermione, did someone hurt you?”

“No— not really.” She was unsettled somewhat by the odd look in his eyes. They were darker…colder; it was like a different person was staring at her from the face of her friend. “The kids at school…they were horrible but they didn’t hurt me.”

The stranger left and Severus was back, smoothing his hands over her shoulders and arms in a twitchy way. “Alright,” he said. “Tell me all about it.” And so she did.

“You shouldn’t listen to them, you know; they’re just jealous,” Severus said after she finally stopped crying and sniffling all over.

“But it’s all true. My hair is awful, and my front teeth are too big—“

“Don’t be stupid.” She huffed but he paid her no mind. “We’re kids; we’re supposed to have large parts to grow into.” Hermione sniffed and looked away, entirely not convinced.

“And you’re brave and kind and the smartest person I know. And that’s the best kind of pretty there is,” Severus said. “Plus, I like you hair.” Then he pulled on one of her crazy curls. “It bounces,” he added with an awed expression, eyes still riveted on the corkscrew strand. 

Hermione really couldn’t help it; she stood on her knees and smacked a kiss on his cheek. 

When she pulled back Severus’ eyes were large and his mouth was slightly agape. It was worse than the first time she’d held his hand; then, he’d flinched, but soon tightened his fingers around hers when she was about to pull away. Severus didn’t reach for her this time, and Hermione berated herself the rest of the day for being a foolish little girl.

***

The next day, Severus met her at their usual spot with a little quirk of his lips, and she knew that things would be alright again. They still held hands and Severus would sit plastered to her side while they read together, but she dare not kiss him again, even if she’d wanted to multiple times.

A few weeks afterwards and as they sat together on the bank of the dirty river that passed through the town, she asked him what he would want for his birthday. Severus frowned –a not unusual expression for him, she quickly came to know- and looked down at his hands as they tore a clamp of grass to tiny little bits. Hermione hugged her legs to her chest and rested her head on her knees, waiting for him in silence. 

“A kiss.”

Hermione’s head snapped up. 

As far as she was concerned, everyone should be kissed at least once when they woke up and before they went to sleep and get as many hugs in between. No one should have to ask for a kiss, and definitely not for their birthday. 

Hermione threw her arms around the tiny shoulders of her unsuspecting companion and gathered him close and tight. They’d already breached this territory at the start of their friendship, and as such Severus hugged her tentatively but readily back. But just as they both pulled back, she landed a swift kiss on his lips. 

It was the best type of kisses, she knew; the one that said I love you, and I care about you and you’re my favorite person in the whole world. And looking down at her friend, with his too large coat and funny smelling sweater, a blush tinting the tips of his ears, Hermione meant that kiss with all her little heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus was sitting cross-legged on the ground, brow furrowed at the little trinket in his hand. He’d found the old flower-shaped clasp amidst the waste on the river’s bank, and he’d thought that the color of its stones was the exact shade of Hermione’s eyes. He’d never had anything to give her before, as much as he'd wanted to. And Hermione would probably like the pretty stones too, maybe enough that she’ll give him another kiss? Severus didn’t understand much the point behind kissing, but he very much liked Hermione’s kisses and how they made him feel all warm and tingly inside. 

But now, no matter how much he tried to clean it with the edge of his coat, the metal not getting any less rusty or its stones less spotty, all he felt were anger and foolish prickling in his eyes. How he’d ever thought that this was a good idea? She’d probably throw the useless pin back in his face and laugh at him too! 

And just when he was about to throw the stupid thing to the ground and run home, a large shadow loomed over him, and Severus felt his heart drop even farther to the bottom of his scuffed shoes.

Jimmy Mason was the terror of every kid below the age of ten in Cokeworth’s playground. He was stocky, with beady eyes and meaty fists. And he thought a broken nose was the funniest thing in the world. 

“What you got there, Snape?”

Severus clutched the pin to his chest, not willing anymore to part with it. “Nothing that concerns you,” he spat, while trying to get on his feet as stealthily as possible. But Jimmy was fast and he snatched the pin right from Severus’ hands. 

“Oh, shiny. I like it.” Then he flashed Severus a toothy grin. “It’s mine now.”

Severus lunged, and blinked to the feel of the hard ground digging in his back and Jimmy’s knee on his chest. He kicked and snarled, but Jimmy only laughed and dug his knee harder. He was starting to feel a little bit woozy; his lungs were fighting to taking in air against the weight on his chest and his arms and legs burned from his trashing about. Then, through angry tears, he caught in the corner of his eye the sight of little fists tugging at Jimmy’s shirt. 

It didn’t make any sense. Who would want to help him? Who’d dare to stand up to Mason? Maybe Severus was imagining things. Maybe he was dying.

“I said let him go!” a shrilly voice cut through the haze in Severus’ head, and his vision cleared to the sight of big and fat Jimmy sailing in the air like a ragdoll thrown away. He landed on the dirty ground a few feet away, then stood, shaking and sobbing, a wet spot growing on the front of his shorts, and ran away. 

Severus pushed himself to his feet and gentle hands were soon smoothing back his hair and dusting his clothes. He closed his eyes against Hermione’s worried face, to keep away another flood of tears, this time of shame and humiliation. 

He was everything his Da said, useless and good for nothing. He didn’t have any toys to share with his best friend or any money to buy her any of the stuff he heard girls liked. He couldn’t even defend himself, never mind protecting her, as was his duty.

“Leave me alone,” he finally choked out. 

Her warm fingers closed around his hands, and he turned his head away. 

“Severus—“ 

“I didn’t need your help!” he yelled.

“He was hurting you!” 

Something dark and vicious was rising in his chest and up his throat. Trembling in its hold, Severus turned and…snapped his mouth shut.

Hermione’s hair was moving and swaying in the air like a cluster of snakes waking slowly from slumber. And along with the death glare she was shooting his way, he almost felt like running for his life after Mason. 

And then it finally dawned. 

Jimmy flying through the air with a push from Hermione’s puny little arms, the way her hair defied all the laws of physics his Muggle teacher liked to rant about, how sitting close to her always felt like snuggling to a bottle of warm water... 

Hermione was a witch. 

And he was the stupidest boy to ever live.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione almost yanked the door off its hinges. 

“What are you still doing there? Come in!” 

She’d been watching for him from the living room’s window since her parent’s car left the driveway. And she’d barely kept herself from meeting him half way when she’d caught sight of his dark head across the road. 

Severus rolled his eyes and shuffled in, taking more time than crossing a threshold could possibly need. She sighed, and dragged him with a fistful of his coat all the way in. Hermione knew that he’d never felt comfortable in her home or when meeting her parents, but he’d just have to get over it, she decided.

It was the first time her parents trusted her to stay at home alone while they were at their practice, and it was high time. Why, she was almost 11 years old! 

All in all, her parents hadn’t put much of a fight. But that didn’t last when she’d asked them about having Severus over. Her parents had shared a look, which was another detail about grownups that she hadn’t started to notice until lately but was yet to understand. It was her father that told her no, saying things afterwards like ‘propriety’ and ‘chaperoning’. Hermione understood what those words meant well and good on the pages of one of her Jane Austen novels, but when it came to Severus and her, it didn’t make any sense. 

But she’d acquiesced, with good grace. 

And then she invited Severus over the next time they met.

It was their fault, she argued with herself whenever her conscience needled at her. They should have given her a more convincing argument. But on the days when the guilt was a bit too much, Hermione reached down to the lick of resentment that recently sprouted in her chest.  
She thought of the cold takeaway leftovers that she had to take to school because her mom was too busy and forgot to make her lunch; or the times where she had to go shopping, scared and on her own, because her clothes were getting too small but her mom and dad had to keep to their working schedules. 

And just like that the guilt would retreat back to where it came from and she’d feel lighter again.

They settled at the small dining table in the kitchen, Mrs. Snape’s leather-bound magic books spread open between them. She was copying a set of charms into her notebook when an angry thump made her lift her head up. 

Severus was glaring at the closed book in front of him. Taking a look at the cover, Hermione resisted rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“I can’t believe you’re still at it. Remember what we read in the Standard Book of Magical Theory? Every magical person has specific affinity to certain branches of magic, to expect to excel in all of the Magical Arts is unrealistic and foolish,” she said. It had been a bitter pill to swallow. But if it was stated in a book, then who was she to argue?

Severus apparently didn’t share her faith in the written word.

“I know that,” he said with a disgusted look her way. “But still...” 

Severus opened his fist, and slowly, the air above his upturned hand started to shimmer and twist. Then, from the tip of his bony forefinger a tiny spark came to life. Severus’ brow furrowed and the little flame flared.  
It lasted for one heavy moment before it wavered and snuffed out with a pitiful pop. 

Hermione turned back to her notes, letting her hair fall to hide her face. That was the saddest demonstration of magic she had ever seen, and even though a laugh was itching to burst from her throat, she refused to add to his embarrassment. 

After three years of friendship, she knew that Severus was more…sensitive than most. He held grievances and slights too close to his heart and small things could get him into long sulky moods. 

Deciding that they needed some cheering, she skipped from her chair and headed to the refrigerator. After some long rummaging on her knees, she finally pulled a piece of chocolate cake that she’d purchased from the school’s cafeteria the day before and had hid in the back.

It was yet another broken rule, for no sweets were allowed in their sugar-free household. Her parents would be highly disappointed, a bossy voice chided in the back of her mind. But one look at Severus’ delighted expression, which he tried to hide with an unconvincing frown, made her push that annoying voice firmly away. Just this once, she retorted back.

Deciding to get a bite before he devoured the whole thing, Hermione reached for the spare spoon only for her hand to close on empty air. Moving her fingers swiftly again, she watched as the spoon danced out of her reach.

“Severus! That’s not funny!”

One cheek bulging with stuffed cake, the other smeared with a spot of chocolate; Severus had his evil smirk on.

“Say please,” he said.

She knew it was payback for her perfect conjuration of the handful of flames; Severus never liked to be rubbish at something. Nevertheless, it wasn’t her fault and she wouldn’t stand for his pettiness.

Arms crossed against her chest, she leaned forward and whispered, “No.” And quick as a wink, Hermione snatched the surviving cake and ran. 

But sure enough, it didn’t take long for Severus to catch up with her and tackle her to the ground, wrenching an embarrassing squeal from her throat. 

Soon they laid side by side, cake smeared in her hair and face, her ribs hurting from her laughing fit. When the last giggle finally died away, Hermione turned and looked at Severus. 

He was leaning on one elbow, languorously sucking chocolate off his fingers looking like a smug cat.

And when Severus caught her looking and gave her one of his rare smiles, small and lopsided, Hermione thought that yep, breaking the rules was worth it this once.


	4. Chapter 4

Severus broke through the golden haze between wakefulness and sleep, and cracked his eyes open to blinding shafts of light streaking through a canopy of leaves. 

It was a rare sight in Cokeworth, this spot of theirs. A thin carpet of greenery provided enough cushioning against the hard packed earth, and the gentle rise of land with the handful of stumped trees ensured shelter against the toxic smells from the dirty river nearby. And with the clear blue sky of midsummer overhead, and the warm cotton-clad thigh under his head, Severus found it hard to believe that he wasn’t still floating in some strange dream land. 

“Severus, have you been listening to me?”

His most innocent expression sliding in place, he met Hermione’s narrowed eyes. 

“Of course,” he said.

A sharp sting shot through his scalp and he winced, bringing a hand to rub at where she’d tugged at his hair.

“Liar.”

“What’s this?” he asked, horrified, pulling one wild flower from his hair and then another. 

She giggled, and then laughed outright. “Serves you right; napping while I’m wasting my breath.”

He sat with a sneer, much to her amusement, and started plucking the monstrosity that she had braided through his greasy locks.

Severus might not have been listening, but he knew what she must’ve been talking about. It was the same topic she’d latched into before they’d left the playground an hour before, just phrased in a different way with different arguments. She was nothing if not determined on getting her point through his thick skull. 

But he’d chosen to remain quiet because he knew that she wouldn’t like what he had to say. No, he didn’t regret scaring horse-face away. He knew her kind well enough; Severus definitely hadn’t missed the way she’d eyed him and his shabby clothes. Turning a broken branch to a small snake and making it nip at her heels was one of his most brilliant ideas, if he could say so himself. 

Her younger sister looked different with her red hair and green eyes, and she’d been polite enough, he supposed. But Severus was more unwilling than ever to befriend another kid, one that he would have to share Hermione with. 

So he’d allowed himself a moment to relish in the older sister’s scared fit before he’d dragged Hermione by the hand out of the place. Their time together was precious. 

For a long time, Hogwarts was the happy thought to lull him back to sleep after a horrible nightmare. It was what he’d clung to on the mornings when he woke up too cold and hungry to do anything other than curl into himself. But after getting their letters, new doubts started to trickle in. It would be a new place full with other magical kids, ones with nicer clothes and not-so-greasy hair…

But no, he wouldn’t think about that right now.

Severus looked on the last freed flower; it was a pretty thing with white petals and a blue disk. Leaning in, Severus tucked it behind Hermione’s ear.

Facing each other, the way they were, it was too easy, almost instinctual, to close the gap and press his colder lips to hers; for Hermione was always radiating heat, even at the height of winter, and he couldn’t help but snuggle into her every time like a kitten. 

If magic was a physical thing, he thought many times, then Hermione’s was made of fire.

Pulling back, Severus wondered if she’d noticed that lately he stole more kisses, lingered a fraction more than he used to. A look at her flushed cheeks and shy smile told him that yes, she did. And even though he could feel his ears and neck warm in return he couldn’t bring himself to muster an ounce of shame. 

Maybe it was the new feeling that kissing sparked in him; a buzzing thrill that skittered down his spine and pooled low in his belly, making him want to curl his toes and wriggle in place. Kissing Hermione had always felt good, but never this bubbly, fuzzy kind.

“I’d better go. It’s getting late,” she said.

His bubble of happiness popped up with that usual prick of fear that he could never get rid of. Did he do something wrong? Was she mad at him? 

But then she laced her fingers through his and gave him one of her big, brilliant smiles. 

For now, at least, things were still alright.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione had been in a trance since Professor McGonagall led them through the shifting brick wall to Diagon Alley. It lasted through edging their way past warlocks and hags, visiting Gringotts and meeting the unpleasant goblins, to the Professor finally biding them goodbye. 

Later when she’d return home, all she’d be able to remember is a whirlwind of bright, fast moving colors and exotic sounds, and the fact that she’d loved every second of it.

And as much as he liked to act otherwise, Severus wasn’t unaffected either. The number of words he’d spoken since leaving Cokeworth could be counted on one hand. And he still had that old people’s air about him, something heavy and slightly sad. But Hermione saw the lights dancing in his dark eyes as they walked past wizards and witches in cloaks and pointed hats, felt the slight trembling of his hand in hers on entering the apothecary for their potion’s supplies. 

In Flourish and Blotts they separated; Severus liked to pick his school things on his own, and her parents were ambushed on their entrance by the shop’s owner. 

It was while wandering alone through the dim aisles, the commotion of the street outside muffled by the grey stone walls, that Hermione’s daze started to evaporate. Ending up at the back of the shop, she closed her eyes, recognizing now what had escaped her before: Magic was everywhere. 

She could feel it pulse in the dark wood of the high bookcases, how it fairly radiated from the tightly stacked leather bound tomes. It surrounded her, feeling like a soft blanket along her skin. And Hermione imagined that if she stuck her tongue, she’d taste it in the air. 

“You can feel it too?”

Hermione jumped, already feeling a blush warming her cheeks, and whirled to find a boy standing an arm’s reach away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, quickly backing away.

“No, no, it’s okay,” she hastened to reply. “And yes, it’s…” And Hermione tried to think of a word that could describe this feeling swirling in her chest. But for all her vast vocabulary –and it was rather impressive– nothing sounded right. Embarrassed anew, she smiled bashfully and said, “It’s wonderful.”

The boy, who was taller than her but looked her age, stopped his hasty retreat and grinned hesitantly back. 

Hermione took a deep breath, and held out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger, and you are?”

After a long moment, the boy slowly grasped her hand. His eyes were hidden behind strands of sandy hair, but Hermione had the feeling that they were fixed intently on her face. 

“Remus,” he said.

“Are you a first year too? Do you know what House you’ll be in? I’ve been doing some background reading, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor; Severus, that’s my friend, is hoping for Slytherin, but Ravenclaw would do too for either of us, I mean we’ll still get to study in the best school of witchcraft there is … maybe we’ll end up in the same classes–” 

Hermione snapped her mouth shut with a click. She didn’t know for how long Severus was standing there in the shadows, but from the way Remus jumped, she hadn’t been the only one oblivious to his presence.

“Oh, Severus, there you are. This is Remus; he’ll be in Hogwarts too.”

“Hello,” Remus said, and gave a little wave.

Silence stretched in response. 

Hermione opened her mouth but Remus beat her to it, though his grin now was smaller and faltering. “Slytherin, huh?”

“Your parents are looking for you, let’s go,” Severus said. Then he took her hand and dragged her from the aisle before she could even say goodbye.

Her parents looked surprised to see her. They knew of her love for books and bookshops and expected to wait for her for hours. 

For the rest of the trip, Severus ignored her murderous glare. And Hermione fumed.

They didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the day.

***

Severus trudged up the cobbled streets, hands fisted in his pockets, shoulders hunched around his ears. The wind cut sharp through his thin shirt and across his cheeks, and with every small step, it batted at the remaining warmth in his chest from that morning’s trip. 

Turning a corner, he walked into a group of older kids. Severus lowered his head to hide behind his hair, and held his breath until he passed them by. 

But senses perked up as they were for any sign of trouble from behind, he didn’t notice the movement in the dark alley ahead. An arm lunched for him from the lengthening shadows, missing him by a hairsbreadth, before Severus broke into a run.

It was nothing personal; he was now old enough to understand. Desperate people did cruel things, and the likes of him just happened to be easy targets. But that knowledge didn’t mean that he despised this town and its people any less.

He ran as fast as he could, looking over his shoulder and jumping at every noise, and by the time he reached Spinner’s End, he was feeling his usual self again; too small, too skinny, a bag of brittle bones and flesh easy to bruise. 

Out of breath, his feet didn’t relent until they hit the doorstep. He took a moment to be grateful that the Grangers had offered to keep his second-hand purchases with those of Hermione and all he had to carry was the lone key in his pocket, before he stumbled his way in.

The house was dark, as was usual; his mother always kept the drapes drawn. His father’s hangovers were frequent, and any discomfort on his part could be taken on them. And it was deathly silent; no clinking of dishes from the kitchen or the bellowing voice of his father from the sitting room. 

Severus was instantly on guard. 

And sure enough, a sudden noise from upstairs leeched the blood from his face. 

For a moment, he let himself think about turning and running back after the Grangers. He’d beg to be let in that ugly beige car again, where he’d been safe just half an hour ago with his best friend by his side.

But the foolish fantasy was soon cut off by another sound and he stepped fully into the hallway, feeling like the lid of his coffin had just been snapped shut. 

He balled his hands into fists to hide their trembling and gingerly moved up the stairwell, paying mind not to step on any of the creaking floorboards. 

A mattress squeaking, his father’s gruff voice cursing and groaning, and beneath it all, a low keening surrounded Severus on reaching the landing. 

His mother wasn't crying, she'd given up on that a long time ago, he knew. This sound she was making was behind hurting, made from everything terrible he’d witnessed and other things he didn’t want to know. It squeezed around his heart, made him sick to his stomach. 

Severus wanted to scream and rage, to burst into the bedroom and drag his father out, hurt him everywhere he could reach. But instead, he continued to his room, shutting the door swiftly after him and backing the small wardrobe against it; because above it all, Severus was scared.

Curling in on himself on the farthest corner of his bed, his hands clamped on his ears, the horrible sounds still slithered past his fingers to his ears. But louder in his head were words, ‘coward’, ‘weak’, ‘weepy little kid’…they looped endlessly.

But after a moment or an hour, he could tell that something had shifted, still was in fact, in some deep part of his being. Some anchor lifted, a hold broke.

Severus opened his eyes. 

A lone tear that had long been held back finally broke free, but he paid it no mind; for oddly, he could still hear the commotion coming from his parent’s bedroom but the fear and hate that choked him earlier was no longer there. Actually, he couldn’t make out any feeling. 

He brought to mind the memory of Hermione with that boy from that morning, how it felt like a nightmare coming to life. Every fear had flared up; Hermione walking away, pretending that she didn’t know him anymore, and leaving him all alone, never to be hugged or liked for the rest of his life…

But none of those things arose this time. Somehow it was like being immersed in deep water, with the world playing on the other side.

Severus decided that he quite liked it this way, but he could have made do without the cold. Shivering, he pulled on the blanket shoved at the end of the bed, content in this odd state of mind.

In years to come, when Severus would look back, he’d recognize this moment for what it truly was, the first time he managed to raise his Occlumency shields.


	6. Chapter 6

 

To Eileen, It all ended the day she had to watch her wand get snapped in two.

Her father blasted her name out of the family tree. The Ministry barred her from the Wizarding World. And finally defenseless and alone, the blows that used to bruise no longer hesitated to open skin and fracture bones.

So it was with a bitter smile that Eileen stopped in the doorway, and waited for the tendrils of magic to finish their inspection of her person.  Icy and as substantial as smoke, they groped along her pulse points then slithered up her arms, and reaching the base of her neck, they plunged right into the center of her chest. She closed her eyes with a shudder when they finally brushed against the shriveled vestiges of what had been her magic, before they quickly retreated to the box held now in a white-knuckled grip.

Indeed, just like her magic couldn’t survive that day, neither did Eileen in a way.

It took three steps to reach the narrow cot, and she sat, putting the box next to the outstretched legs of her son.

At her approach, Severus lowered the book in his hands. His eyes flitted to the box then locked on hers, the little frown that frequently marred his brow oddly absent, but still no word of acknowledgment came.

“It’s yours,” she said.

His eyes returned to the box and Eileen watched as something slowly lit in their depths. When he looked back at her his face was again familiar, childish curiousness warring with suspicion, and Eileen felt something revive in her chest.

He put the book to the side and crossed his legs. “What is it?” 

“It was sent to me by your grandmother a week after you were born. She meant for me to keep it until you’re old enough to have need of it. I admit, you’re too young still–”

Severus opened his mouth, undoubtedly to object to the claim of him being too young to anything, but she clutched his hand, ignoring his flinch, and continued in a frantic whisper, “But waiting is no longer an acceptable course in our current circumstances.”

Eileen held his eyes and willed him to understand the words she cowardly left unsaid. _We’re running out of time. I can’t protect you anymore._

After a long moment Severus clenched his jaw and nodded, and she let go of his wrist with a sigh.

“What’s in it, anyway?” he said.

The box was unimpressive, she supposed, especially from the stand point of an eleven years old boy. It had a plain rectangular body with a slightly concave and hinged lid. Her forefathers, above all else, could never be accused of frivolity.

But Eileen remembered that as a girl she had had a mysterious fascination with the thick band circling the lower part of the box. It was made of entwining branches and vines–

“Ow!”

Oh, she forgot about that little detail. _That_ what had her enthralled as a child.

“It-it bit me!” Severus spluttered, outraged.

Eileen bit back an amused grin. She recalled now that behind the finely engraved cluster of leaves, silver snakes glided in waiting for any wandering hand.

“Those are the guardians of the box, to make sure that only a Prince will have access to its contents.”

Severus rubbed at his forefinger where a set of two small pinpricks welled of blood. “But I’m a Snape.”

“You’re a Prince!” she spat back, all amusement fleeing in a breath. “In all the ways that matter.”

Right at that moment, the box let out a hiss, not unlike that of a snake, and the lid slowly lifted.

“See? Magic itself had just acknowledged you as a true Prince,” she said.

But Eileen no longer held her son’s attention. The box stood fully opened now, revealing all of its secrets.

“ _Jewelry_? But that’s girls’ stuff.”

And if anyone doubted the lineage of her son, Eileen thought, they only had to hear the amount of disdain he could inject in one word.

As he reached for her mother’s engagement ring, Eileen let her fingers drift to one empty padded compartment.

Snippets of long forgotten stories drifted into her mind, in a voice that could have been that of her mother or not. They told of an unassuming box dating back to centuries, made by the ever first Prince. It held jewelry for the Lady of the House and its Lord; ornaments of white gold forged in old magic and blood to protect and serve the family’s scions.

She remembered a signet ring and a pocket watch that never parted with her father’s person. But Eileen knew that he would take them to the grave before he’d let any child of hers have hold of them. Long held grudges and spite were as much traits of the Prince line as the black inky eyes.

“ _You_ won’t have use of them. But your future wife will.” 

“Wife-what? No. _No._ I will _never_ get married,” he said while scrambling back on his bed, eyes wide and frantic in his sallow face.

Eileen had a rare and fleeting urge to tease her son, but then the saner, wiser rest of her caught up and pointed out that her son’s aversion to the notion of marriage probably wasn’t just part of childhood’s usual antics.  She mulled it over, and resignation and familiar despair settled on her shoulders. With the sham she calls marriage, how could she have expected otherwise?

But then Eileen took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She might not live long enough to see her grandchildren, but by Merlin, Severus will not be deprived of the joy of holding his own child in his arms.

"Imagine not having need for words, being understood for what you mean and not what you say. Imagine never feeling lonely again, to be linked to another person in your thoughts and feelings and down to the smallest part of your being. That’s what a Magical marriage is, a bonding of souls.”

Severus looked down at his lap and twisted a finger in a hole in the knee of his trousers. “But people could still change their minds, decide that they didn’t really like you all that much…”  In a small voice, eyes still focused on the now wider hole, he continued, “They could still leave you.”

And just when Eileen thought that she'd ran out of tears at last...She blinked furiously, and coughed to clear the suspicious lump from her throat.

“And that’s where magic plays its part. What’s in your heart is the ribbon and the magical vows are but the knot. If your affections are fickle to begin with, the tying will fail. But if they are true, then the bond will hold strong. It’ll last until one of you draws its last breath.”

“So it’s forever?”

There wasn't such a thing as forever, as far as Eileen was concerned. But she'd inflicted enough damage on her son without introducing him to the notion of fatality at such a young age. She probably sold the idea of marriage a bit too enthusiastically, but her son was meeting her eyes again, expression bright and so... _alive_. So Eileen let a small smile break through in answer and murmured, “And always.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

He remained awake long into the night, his grandma’s ring in his hand and his mother’s words repeating in his head. When the first ray of sunrise made it into his room, Severus left his cot, his heart beating loud inside of his chest.

Today, hopefully, was going to be his last as a celibate boy.

When Severus first met Hermione, he knew that she was going to be the only friend for him. So he stopped lingering near other kids, no longer hoping to be invited to join in.

He had Hermione and she was enough.

But when Hermione was Severus’s everything, he wasn’t hers. He often caught her looking wistfully at kids playing together in the playground. And at the beginning of every school year, he watched as she left for class excited and hopeful only to return sad and resigned.

Severus had checked books in the library, but no matter how heavy or incomprehensible they were, they all seemed to agree on the same thing: it was simply human nature. Just like his magic was cold and hers warm, such was that he didn’t care much for people while Hermione felt most happy in their midst.

Soon after that, Severus found it hard to be mad at her for something that she couldn’t help, and settled for waiting in fear for the day she was going to replace him with better, chipper friends.

And then his mother gave him the jewelry box, and he had the answer.

He couldn’t keep Hermione from making other friends, but he could make sure that he remains her best friend forever.

Of course, Severus knew that marrying at eleven was not the done thing. But surely, if Hermione could turn a leaf into a butterfly and he could make books flap their covers and fly high into the sky, then why couldn’t he marry his best friend?

* * *

Saturday was Hermione’s parents’ night out and as such the only day of the week when Hermione could sneak out after dark. During these days, Severus would skip all the way to Hermione’s home, a little bit less envious of the neat gardens and the stately houses than usual.

In the shadows, he always felt stronger and braver. So he’d throw stones at her window, meet her with a flower from her snobby neighbor’s bushes, and do all kinds of silly things that made Hermione giggle and blush. And he would feel proud, because he felt best when he made Hermione laugh, and not that much embarrassed, since she couldn’t make out his own blush in the moonlight.

So it was only fitting that he was to propose on a Saturday.

A distance from Hermione’s home, where the greenery of the fancy suburb ended and the hard packed earth of Cokeworth started, Severus stood under a sad looking tree. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and watched as the purple of the falling night bled into the orange of the retreating sun.

He had his father’s favorite jacket on. He’d probably get a bloody beating if he were ever caught, but it had shiny silvery buttons that glinted in the light, and a high collar that made Severus feel like a grand lord from Hermione’s beloved novels, and he knew that at least this once, he wouldn’t mind the beating that much.

Soon the sound of Hermione’s familiar footsteps reached him, and he turned, all his careful speeches and arguments carried away by the wind like it was their wont to do these days.

Severus had always thought that Hermione was pretty, in the way that all girls were. He didn’t know when it started or what brought it about, but lately, he noticed a prettiness that was all her own, often leaving him spluttering or speechless like a fool.

Hermione was hugging a thick book to her chest, and trying and failing to push her windswept hair away from her eyes and her mouth.

Severus sent a silent prayer to the moon and the stars: _please,_ _just this once, grant me what I wish._

Prevailing for the moment on the stubborn curls, Hermione finally looked at him.

“Severus, your hair!”

Severus snapped out of his thoughts and scowled. Yes, for once he’d brushed his hair back, but he would have preferred if instead she’d noticed the quilt he’d spread on the ground, threadbare but soft, with crackers and two soda bottles on top. It had cost him all of his hard earned pennies, but during his exhaustive research, almost if not all of the romantic stories had mentioned some sort of picnic.

“Don’t mind that. Hermione, I– come here.” He grabbed her hand, and pulled her down to the quilt.

“I–I want you to have this,” he said, and shoved a bundled handkerchief in her hands.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but slowly and carefully, she put down her book and then tugged on the knot of the handkerchief.  It unraveled and his grandma’s ring glinted with an odd sheen that he hadn’t seen before. And then Hermione’s mouth dropped open.

“Severus…“

“I’d like for us to get married.”

Well. There goes slow and smooth persuasion.

Hermione closed her mouth, opened it, and then closed it again. And then slowly, as if she was explaining something to a toddler, she said, “Not only it’s illegal–“

“–In the Muggle world, but you and I are magical–”

“–I don’t even want to imagine what my parents would–“

“–They don’t have to know–”

“–Severus ! This–this is ridiculous.” And she laughed. “You can’t be serious!”

He had no words, had nothing in him anymore. And her smile dimmed, disappeared in the next blink.

“Severus?”

“Forget it,” And he scrambled to his feet, feeling all shaky and small and so close to tears.

“Wait…”

He’ll just head home, hide himself under the covers, and hope that he’ll die in his sleep.

“Severus, please…”

That stopped him in his tracks. Why did her voice sound all…teary? Severus hesitated, then forced himself to turn, because whatever happened, Hermione should never sound that sad.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “I just–please don’t leave.”

“I’m not–”

He wanted to say that he was angry and heartbroken but he’ll never stop being her friend, as long as she’d let him. But then it dawned on him, could it be possible that Hermione feared losing him too?

Maybe there was hope yet.

He sat back. And gathering the remaining tatters of his courage, he moved to Hermione’s side, close enough that their shoulders touched. Her arms were soon around him, pulling him as close as can be to her warmth and softness.

“I just–I just want to remain your friend,” he said in her hair.

“You idiot, you’ll always be my best friend.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Severus–“

“You read _Hogwarts: A History._ You know there’s a real possibility that we’ll end up in separate Houses. And then we’ll be attending different classes, live in separate dorms. We wouldn’t be able to see each other except on weekends, and with homework and school projects, who knows even then?”

He risked a glance at Hermione and saw her eyes wide in horror. Good.

After a moment, Hermione sniffled and spoke again, a frown marring her brow. “But how would being married help with that?”

“That’s the thing with magical marriage. Mom told me all about it. No matter how far apart we are, we’ll always be bound together by Magic.” Or at least he hoped it was the case. Mother’s collection of books was meager, and it consisted mostly of school related material. He didn’t get to research Wizarding Marriage, but in his heart, he knew it was the right thing to do.

“Bound how? And how much does it differ of normal marriage? Does a divorce exist in the Wizarding world? ”

Trust Hermione to have tons of questions. And why was she already asking about divorce?

“It’s a _very_ old ritual; there are not many records about it.”

Hermione pulled back from their embrace and put her hands to her hips. “Severus, we can’t possibly jump into a magical ritual without fully understanding it.”

He glared at her, and then smirked and lifted an eyebrow. “Remember that time you tried to understand how Transfiguration _really_ worked?” He said, and Hermione winced.

She had had it in her mind to understand how particles could rearrange themselves to create new matter, so she’d buried herself in all of his mother’s Transfiguration textbooks, university level physics, and almost gave herself a stroke in the process.

“It’s not the same,” she replied, and Severus was glad to hear a note of uncertainty in her voice.

He could do this, he thought. Direct approach was obviously not his forte, but cunning was always his way.

“Magic is all about intent, and what better intent there is than wanting to stay friends forever? Magic had never done us harm before, Hermione.”

Everything in Severus’s life had hurt him at one point or other: his parents, the bigger kids, even strangers passing him by with their disgusted, sometimes pitying looks; but never Magic, or Hermione.

There was no trace of the sun now, the sky an inky blue, stretching endlessly in front of them.

“What if you change your mind?” Hermione said.

Severus tensed. That was the main reason behind this whole scheme. He knew that Hermione would inevitably find a better kid for a friend,  and so the idea of binding her to himself, buy himself time until he was stronger, wealthier… until he could be worthy of her.

“What if you meet someone else, a prettier girl with a lot of friends and who wouldn’t boss you around. What if you wanted to be with her instead? ”

Oh. _Oh._

So she was afraid that _he_ would leave her for someone else?

Silly, _silly_ Hermione.

At school, Severus had seen all different kinds of pretty girls: tall and short, thin and roundish, hair long and short and straight and curly; but the only girl he ever wanted to kiss was his friend.

And he rather liked her bossing him around; how she scolded him about catching cold, while adjusting his scarf carefully and gently around his scrawny neck; how she smiled at him on his good days, and stood up to him on his bad days, and through it all, she was always there the next day.

But he’d never admit to that aloud; his courage was stretched thin as it is.

Instead, he said, “But isn’t that what marriage is all about? Promising you that no matter where we go or who we meet, you’re going to remain the person I love most in the world?”

“It is?”

“Yes.”

“Can I think about it?”

No, that was a very bad idea indeed. The element of surprise was an important part to the success of his plan.

“But we’ll be leaving for Hogwarts the day after tomorrow. The next time we’ll be able to sit like this would probably be next summer.”

Hermione gasped, and he felt a twinge of guilt at using her fears like this. But in the end, his fear of losing her was stronger.

Silence stretched again, and he reached for Hermione’s hand, looking for the comfort that touching her brought.

“Ok,” she said.

“Ok?”

“I mean–yes. I, uh, I accept.”

A broad smile stretched Severus’ lips until his cheeks hurt, and he was more thankful than ever for the cover of the dark.

“So, what now?” Hermione said, pulling him back from the happy place he’d floated to.

He… didn’t actually think it this far. In his mind, Hermione had accepted to marry him right away, gave him a long kiss and they lived happily ever after.

“Uh, I think we should exchange promises? And then you should put on the ring?” That’s what happens in the stories, in any case. Severus had never been to a wedding before.

“Here, I’ll start,” he said, holding both of her hands to his chest. “Hermione, I promise that I’ll be with you forever, protecting you and sharing all that’s mine. I promise that you’ll be the only one I hold hands with, the only one I kiss. And I promise that I’ll always try to be the best friend I could .

“Now you repeat that,” he said.

Hermione’s voice started wobbly and breathy, but with every word it grew in strength. By the time she finished, the both of them had too large identical smiles.

Then she looked down at the ring and laughed. “I don’t think this one will fit.” She slid it on her finger. “Maybe in a decade or–“

Light engulfed Hermione’s finger and Severus’ heart almost stopped.

“Severus?” she said, her voice shaky.

“I–“

But before he could utter another word, the light disappeared and darkness reigned again

His grandma’s ring had been a majestic thing, with a lot of twinkly dark stones and intricate engravings along the sides. But now, in its place, a smaller ring stood, with a plain fine band and one tiny stone.

“I’ll get you another–“

“–It’s beautiful…”

“It is?”

“Yes.” Hermione said decidedly, not really looking at him, all attention on her hand, turning it that way and that.

He shrugged. He didn’t understand much in the way of jewelry, but as long as Hermione was happy…

Severus continued observing his best friend, now his wife, a pleased smirk on his face, his mind already on the kiss that surely would follow.

Lost in his musings, Severus didn’t notice the band of light around his fourth finger.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Miss Granger, I really see no point in you staying here and missing your classes. Mister Snape is heavily dosed with sleeping potions, he’ll remain unaware of your presence for the rest of the day,” Professor McGonagall said.

Hermione just held on to Severus’s hand with both of hers. Her lips pinched against the words ‘ _go away!’_ and ‘ _Leave us alone!’_ while her eyes brimmed with tears of helplessness and frustration.

“Come now, Minerva,” said Professor Slughorn. “Can’t you see that the young lady is quite distressed? I’m sure it’ll do her a world of good to stay at her friend’s bedside.” He then winked at Hermione and turned to lead a disapproving Transfiguration Professor out of the Hospital Wing.

It was in the silence that followed that the emotions in Hermione’s heart spilled over, and she buried her face in her arms to muffle her sobs.

She had never been so afraid until she saw the still form of Severus at the foot of the moving stairs, a horrible, deep crimson puddle slowly growing beneath him. And the red anger that took a hold of her, at the magical place that should have been a safe home for Severus, at those three _evil_ boys, at the Professors, at herself…

Maybe if she had paid more attention when they’d first met Potter and Black on the train to Hogwarts, she could have noticed some sign of what was to come. Maybe if she’d thought of something better than ‘ _ignore them_ ’ and ‘ _tell a Professor_ ’ Severus wouldn’t have ended up lying small and frail on the sterile sheets of the Hospital Wing.

When her tears at last ran out, Hermione lifted her head and her eyes landed on Severus’ uniform, torn and bloodied and tossed in a corner. She gave a squeeze to his hand, to reassure the both of them that she’ll soon be back, and left her chair to pick the pile in her arms.

Severus had only the one set of school uniform, she knew, and he’d be terribly upset if he ever saw it in its current state. So Hermione closed her eyes and called for her magic, like she hadn’t done since coming to Hogwarts, since she got told that the _proper_ way was to use her wand.

Her magic rushed through her veins, and she watched as the blood stains vanished and the threads knitted back.

But what was she doing? The thought swiftly rose in her mind; crying and doing nothing just like those insipid princesses in the stories, hoping for someone to come to her rescue.

Hermione had her magic, and she was sure that her brains could match those of the three arrogant prats combined! All she needed now was a plan and Hermione could start taking care of Severus like she’d promised to.

Feeling a smidgen better now that she had a purpose on mind, Hermione scrubbed roughly with her sleeve the treks of tears from her face, and with a decisive flick of her wrist, she summoned her bag.

* * *

Severus had been staring for a long time now at the quill scratching busily in a notebook, the two hovering a few feet in the air. He’d had a right panic when he’d first opened his eyes to the sight, his mind instantly bringing up the memories of recent pranks. But the almond scent he well knew had soon reached him, and he’d settled back.

The curtains were pulled shut around his cot, but he could still tell that it was well past curfew. Hermione should get back to her dorm, he knew, but Severus was selfish enough to risk her losing House points rather than stay alone. For as long as he focused on the thought of Hermione by his side, he could keep what happened that morning at the back of his mind.

His eyes were starting to droop when the quill abruptly stopped.

“Finite Incantatem.” And Hermione materialized out of thin air. Her hands were soon fluttering all over him, brushing his hair, cupping his cheeks, and he inched closer, seeking more of her touches and not really paying mind to her nervous chatter.

But then Hermione’s voice suddenly hitched and then her hands were leaving him to cover her face. Her shoulders started shaking, her chest heaving with her gasps and hiccups and Severus was panicking anew.

 “Hermione.” He tugged futilely at her hands. “Don’t cry, please, I’m OK, see?”

Severus pushed back from the cot with a wince and made to gather her in his arms. Things always felt better when Hermione hugged him and he hoped that it would work the same for her. His ribs jostled and a whimper escaped him, and it was then that Hermione finally looked at him.

“Severus Snape! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” She lowered him gently back on the bed, and tucked the covers around him, all while frowning disapprovingly at him through her tears.

Jumping at the momentary stop of her tears, hoping for diverting her attention, Severus asked, “How did you convince Madam Pomfrey to let you stay?”

Hermione sniveled. “I didn’t. She’d already given me a good talking-to about not overstaying the visiting hours when she’d done tending to you, and I knew then that there would be no swaying her. So when time was up, I made a show of gathering my things and walking out, then I casted a Disillusionment Charm and sneaked right back in.”

Severus buried his face in the pillow and felt her swat his back.

“Don’t you dare laugh, I could be expelled!” she said.

When he turned back, his chest was burning and his eyes were tearing, but his lips were pulled in a smile. _His goody-two-shoes Gryffindor had broken the rules! for **him**!_

 “Stay with me?” his foolish mouth said before his brain could catch up. It must be the stupid potions, Severus thought, there was no way that he just said that with his full mental capacities on.

“You mean the night?” Hermione worried at her bottom lip. “I’ve already broken so many rules–”

Severus nodded, and turned on his back, throwing one arm over his eyes. Really, it was silly of him to hope otherwise. She’d already stayed at his side–

“–so another one wouldn’t much hurt.”

_What?_

“Scoot over,” she said.

“Uh?”

“I’m not spending the night in that chair.”

“Of–of course!” he said, almost toppling over the side of the bed in his haste to make space.

Hermione giggled, and he scowled back.

He waited until she settled on her side facing him, then he pulled the covers all the way over, encasing the both of them in a warm cocoon.

Her warm breaths were ruffling the hairs falling in his eyes, but Severus wanted to be closer still. He wanted to sleep with his head on her chest, her hands smoothing his hair. _Could he dare?_

His grandma’s ring winked at him from Hermione’s hand, and he took a deep breath and did just that. And when Hermione rested her chin on his head and put one arm around his back, Severus squeezed his eyes shut lest he cry.

“Severus?”

“Hmm?” _Please, please, don't ask me about what happened. Let me have this._

“Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

The Gryffindor common room was unsurprisingly empty as it was only a little before dawn. A few embers were still burning in the fireplace, casting a weak orange glow.

Hermione had almost reached the spiral staircase to the girl’s dormitory when a voice spoke, making her heart almost jump out of her chest, “Hermione Granger sneaking around after dark! Wonders never cease!”

Remus Lupin walked forth from a dark corner, wearing a faded bathrobe and a hesitant smile.

“Oh. So you do remember my name,” she said, and his smile dropped like a stone.

It was not so long ago that Remus used to join Severus and her at the library and in their wanderings around the grounds. And if Severus hadn’t exactly welcomed Remus with open arms, she’d managed to badger him into being his least nasty self– most of the time. But then Potter and Black took shine to Remus and she and Severus had suddenly seized to exist.

Remus’ eyes were big and sad, like that of a puppy, and if it were any other day, she would probably have felt terribly ashamed. But fresh in Hermione’s mind was the image of a splash of red seeping through a faded white shirt, and a sense of loss as large as the world. As such, Hermione couldn't find it in her to care about anything else much. Feeling all weary, she sighed and said, “Just what do you want?”

“I…How is he?”

“Madam Pomfrey says that it’ll take at least another two days before his leg and ribs are properly healed.”

He winced. “I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t the one who tripped him down the moving stairs.”

She was turning away, mind already on her warm cover and soft sheets when he spoke again, “They– they didn’t really mean it, you know?”

Maybe it was the look on her face that made him take a step back, or maybe her hair was doing that snake-y thing Severus talked about.

Remus raised a placatory hand. “P–please, just listen to me for a second. James and Sirius grew up surrounded by magic all their lives. If they broke something, a spell fixed it. If something hurt, there was a potion for it. They don’t understand consequences or–or pain the way we do!”

“That is no excuse for hurting another person!” she cried, her voice going shrill.

“I know! but it’s not like Snape is all that innocent either.”

“ ** _Excuse me?!_** _”_

Angry red sparks shot from the tips of her fingers to the ground, making both of them jump in fright. She stumped on the little holes burning in the carpet and fixed Remus with all of her ire.

He was bumping on armchairs, stumbling on the edge of his bathrobe, trying to reach the door to the boys’ dormitory without being too obvious about it.

Remus gave a short, slightly panicked laugh, and raised his hands. “Come on, Hermione. He’s mean, snarky and just all around … creepy.”

She gaped at him. “And just what does that have to do with any you?!”

He opened his mouth but Hermione had had enough of this conversation. Her magic had been welling up, gathering under her skin, eager to be unleashed, and it won’t do to set a fellow student on fire.

“It’s not that they don’t understand consequences but rather they don’t _care_. They pushed him down _the moving_ _stairs_ , Remus. Severus could have _died!_ And-and if you can find it in you to defend such bullies, then I don’t think you should talk to me ever again!”

Remus looked like she’s stabbed him in the heart, but what else had he expected?  They’d been good friends, but he didn’t care enough about her to stand up to Potter and Black, and she cared too much about Severus for her to look the other way. In any case, Remus had chosen his side and she had chosen hers.

“And if I ever hear you talk about Severus like that again, I _will_ hex you.” Then she stomped up the staircase without a second look.

* * *

The next day, Hermione woke up to the high-pitch wail of one James Potter.

She smirked.

Her dormmates were scrambling from their beds, disoriented and confused, making a ruckus that didn’t quite mask the continued screams of Potter.

“My hair! _My hair!_ ”

Behind the closed curtains of her bed, Hermione stretched her arms above her head and arched her back. Nothing was more satisfying than a well-executed spell work!

“ _MY EYEBROWS!!”_

Ok, maybe it was a bit _too_ well-executed than she’d initially intended. But it’ll eventually all grow back. Probably.

* * *

Safe in the knowledge that the entrance to the Gryffindor tower was just around the corner, Sirius Black took his sweet time sauntering down the empty corridor, not suspecting in the least that he was making an easy target to a Disillusioned and vengeful witch.

Hermione’s wand was aimed steadily at the center of his chest. She brought to mind all those instances when Black had made fun of Severus’s second-hand robe, his hair or his nose, then that time in Transfiguration when Black had hit Severus upside the head so hard that his forehead had bashed against the desk, and before a spell could leave her lips, a jet of light shot out of her wand and Black was sent backwards and knocked against the wall.

Black was dizzily trying to pick himself up from the floor when the first slug dribbled out of his mouth. It was soon followed by another one squeezing out of his nose, and then two from his ears. He blinked down at the slimy slugs wriggling in his lap, and passed out.

Satisfied that the tweaked spell had worked, Hermione skipped her way to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Oh, she’d considered using some of the more complicated spells she’d read about in the Library. There was the spell that rearranged appendages to different places on the body, or that one that would have shrunk him down enough that she could have kept him in a jar for a few days.

It’d been too tempting, but Hermione had had to remind herself that as much as revenge was fun, it wasn’t the true goal of The Plan.

What Hermione wanted above all else was to make a safe home for Severus. And these petty pranks were nothing but a distraction to buy herself enough time.


	10. Chapter 10

“Severus Snape! Stop right this instance!”

Severus picked up his pace.

“Don’t make me hex you!” Hermione’s shrilly voice followed after him.

“You wouldn’t dare!” he cried over his shoulder.

And before he could take another step, Severus was lift off his feet. He dangled for a while, suspended a few feet up in the air, then he was ducked through a doorway and dropped on a wet ground.

Really, he should have known better than to give her a challenge.

“Where did you learn that?” he said, standing on shaky legs. Then he gasped. “Have you been studying without me?”

“I’ll come back to that–“

“–And _where_ are we?”

“It’s the girls’ bathroom on–where do you think you’re going?”

Severus definitely had no business in a _girls’_ toilet, of that he was sure. What was Hermione thinking, bringing them there? But right when his hand was just a hairbreadth’s away from the doorknob, Severus was yanked back and thrown into one of the cubicles.

“You’ve got to stop manhandling me!” he grouched, straightening his collar and tie and trying to act like he wasn’t intimidated by the wand aimed at his face or by the glare of its owner.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I was merely busy–“

“Severus!”

He heaved a sigh and finally met her eyes. “Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want to talk about it!”

“I want to help.”

“No! It’s _my_ fight and I can handle those idiots completely fine on my own!”

“But...” Hermione stared at him for a moment before stomping her foot and throwing her hands in the air. “But we’re friends! And friends help each other.” He opened his mouth but her wand was pointing again at his face and he took that as his sign to shut up. “And more than that, we’re m-married! And _that_ means we’re a team! Forever and always, you said. Well, if you won’t keep your promise, then– then you can take your stupid ring back!”

Then she reached for her ring and Severus felt like she was about to rip his heart out of his chest.

“NO! I’m sorry, d-don’t take it off, please.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to help and you’ll let me.”

“Fine!” And he threw himself back on the closed stool, crossing his arms sullenly on his chest.

This was all wrong! Severus was supposed to be the stronger one, the protector; that’s how all the husbands were in the books! But just two months into their marriage and he was already cocking things up.

Deep in his sulking snit, Severus didn’t notice Hermione moving close until she was nudging him with her hip. Still staring ahead, he shuffled over on the stool and she sat, her warmth instantly seeping through his thin school uniform from shoulder to thigh.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt your ribs when I’d levitated you, did I?”

He sighed, feeling his shoulders drop and relax. “Stop fussing. I’m all healed up.” Then after a moment he added, “And you will teach me that spell!”

She laughed.

Well, at least she wasn’t angry at him anymore.

“Oh young _luv_!”

They sprang off each other.

“Myrtle! We had a deal!” Hermione said to the grayish apparition hovering over their heads.

“And I just came to remind you of it. Who is this? Is he your _boyfriend_?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked to the cubicle on the end with Severus following closely after. Not that he was a tiny bit scared of the goggling ghost, Severus assured himself; he was just covering Hermione’s back, one can never be too careful. Then he watched as Hermione summoned her bag, dug up some pink magazines and spread them on the floor.

Moaning Myrtle swooped down and the magazines fluttered open, revealing moving pictures of pretty boys winking and waving.

He turned to Hermione with a sneer.

She flushed. “What? Anyway, what do you think? It’s perfect, right? No professor would think of checking a toilet during their rounds, and if someone stumbled on this place, Myrtle will make sure to drive him out, that is, so long as we keep supplying her of, uh…” she waved a hand at where Myrtle was cooing and giggling over the magazines, “reading material.”

Severus opened his mouth, and then closed it at loss for words.

Hermione’s shoulders drooped. “You don’t like it.”

Severus looked at the place. It was gloomy, with only a few lit stubs of candles flickering in a sharp and icy draft. The sinks were chinked and yellowed with age, and the doors to the stalls were barely hanging to their hinges.

He looked back at Hermione. She was fidgeting, biting her thumbnail and no longer meeting his eyes.

Severus tugged off her hand. “It’ll do.”

She lit up like a bulb, eyes sparkly and smile bright again. And he smiled back at her, maybe he wasn’t a complete failure after all.

Hermione then took his hand and lead him to one of the stalls. “I’ve been working on some ideas while you were still in the Hospital Wing.” And she pulled one of the flaking doors open.

Severus was rooted to the spot. The three sides of the cubicle were covered with countless pieces of parchment, piled and jammed into each other.  Amidst drawings and diagrams, he could make out notes in Hermione’s handwriting.

He turned, and it was then that he noticed the cauldron perched on the toilet, Hermione kneeling over it with a stirring rod.

“What’s that?”

“Murtlap Essence. I have the Wound Cleaning-Potion steeping in the other stall and I’ve ordered some knotgrass from the apothecary so I can start on the Burn-Healing Paste.” She stole a glance at him. “I know that there must be other injuries that you haven’t gone to Madam Pomfrey for.”

“How did–“

“– because I know you.”

Severus’ mind went to the first time his Da had snuffed out one of his cigarettes on his flesh. It had been on the soft flesh between his neck and shoulder, and he hadn’t yet own a scarf to try to cover it with.

Hermione had taken a single look at the angry burn and ran home. He’d cried that day, in broad daylight in the middle of playground, for the pain of having his skin melt away but more so for losing his only friend.

But then she’d returned, flushed and out of breath, a first aid manual in one hand and a pink and glittery lunchbox filled with bandages and bottles of drugs in the other.

She’d put an ointment on the burn and wrapped it with gauze, then pulled out his shirt from his trousers and rubbed some pomade to the bruises along his ribs. He’d let her turn him that way and that, sticking band-aids  and putting ointment where she’d seen fit, until she’d declared him to be as good as can be.

Now, just like then, Severus didn’t know what to make of all this different emotions. He was ashamed, a little bit scared but mostly feeling something bright and warm filling him to the brim, like the sun was rising inside of his chest.

Without thinking much about it, Severus dropped to his knees next to Hermione and kissed her cheek. And even when Moaning Myrtle flew over their heads giggling, he didn’t move from her side an inch.


	11. Chapter 11

Plates and cups popped out of thin air while the Gryffindor table buzzed with the latest gossip. Talk was that a first year Slytherin had woken up that morning to a Dungbomb under his sheets, and the smell was so horrid that he had to soak in a special potion for the rest of the day. Hoots of laughter rose up from the crimson covered table, but soon the topic was forgotten in favor of the sumptuous meal.

Gryffindors loved to play their pranks, and the joke was doubly funny when it was at the expense of one of the snooty snakes.

The next day, the male residents of the Gryffindor tower woke up coughing and gagging to the vilest scent that ever graced human nostrils. They tripped over each other, picked up few of the soft-hearted who had passed out, before they reached the door to the common room…only to find it closed and heavily warded.

One or two nervous breakdowns later, Gryffindor prefects finally managed to dismantle the wards and the students –and the smell– spilled into the common room.

Afterwards, Gryffindors unanimously agreed that Dungbombs weren’t so funny after all.

* * *

“Hello, Granger.”

Hermione lifted her head and met the steely eyes of Sirius Black.

When they’d first met, Hermione had thought that he was the prettiest boy to ever exist.  He’d bowed and kissed her hand, and she’d blushed and ducked her head.

Now, taking in the same dark wavy hair, high cheekbones and arrogant smirk, all she could do was keep her hand from slapping his stupid face. How did she ever think him handsome?

Hermione closed her book and took a look around the library. Madame Pince was nowhere in sight but a few first years were sitting nearby and clearly listening in.

“I know that you’ve been helping Snape.”

She straightened and lifted her chin. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

Sirius’ mouth hung open. “You don’t deny it? But he’s a slimy Slytherin!”

“Don’t call him that! That’s my best friend!”

Honestly! Hermione was _really_ getting sick of repeating herself to thickheaded Gryffindor boys.

“Wait, I think I know what this is about. You just don’t know how things are done around here, being Muggle-born and all, right? Well, I’ll help you with that. See, you can’t be friends with Slytherin. Not only are they an evil bunch, but they hate your kind! Your _Housemates_ are your only friends. You know what? How about you hang out with us, James and I?”

Hermione looked at him aghast. “No, thank you.” And she made to stand when his hand shot and grabbed her sleeve.

“Granger, you don’t want to make an enemy of your own House.”

“You don’t want to make an enemy of _me_. I’m going to say this for the last time. Leave. Us. Alone! Go kick a ball or do whatever stupid boys do for fun and stop bullying people! And if you don’t let go of me right this second, I will do some serious damage to a very important part of your anatomy.” Her eyes sunk to the table between them, underneath which her wand was drawn and taking aim, and Black snatched his hand, his face going a sickly pale.

“You’re going to regret this,” he spat when he’d backed a good deal away from her.

“Do your best,” she said, and fixed a sickly sweet smile on her face until he disappeared through the library’s door.

Only then she allowed herself to sit back and hide her face in her shaky hands. Hermione was trying so very hard to be brave and strong, but she just couldn’t help being afraid. Maybe the Sorting Hat had gotten it wrong; Hermione didn’t feel like much of a Gryffindor, she definitely didn’t like hurting people or getting into fights. But however she felt, it didn't really matter. Severus needed her and she' d do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

* * *

After two full weeks of dueling in corridors and constantly looking over her shoulder, the twitching of Hermione’s hands morphed into strong spasms, and every time her hand clenched and curled, the fire under her cauldron flared up and spat little sparks.

Across the aisle of the Potions classroom, Severus’ bruised, sunken eyes kept glancing at her full of worry.

She lowered the fire under her cauldron for the fourth time, then she turned her head, the words _‘I’m OK’_ on the tip of her tongue, when she saw Black on his way from the supply cupboard dump several leaves in Severus’ cauldron.

Instantly, his brew turned an angry crimson and heaved. Hermione held her breath as Severus hastily shredded some Boomslang skin and tossed it in the concoction. It took several moments, but soon the potion settled and returned to its original pink color.

Hermione turned around, her hair whipping around her face, and slapped her hands on Black’s desk.

“You, Sirius Black, are an arrogant, sad excuse of a wizard and-and a dunderhead! And I’ve just had enough of your childish pranks! This stops now!”

“We don’t take orders from you!” a chubby kid cried from the third row.

Hermione whipped her wand and the stool of the later vanished, making Pettigrew  fall to the floor with a loud thud.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she said, but before she could once again face Black, a sharp stung shot up her arm and her wand cluttered to the ground.

Black was aiming his wand at her with an odd glint to his eyes. “He’s right though. Gryffindors don’t take orders from no one, never mind disgusting Slytherins. And you’re one of the snakes now, aren’t you? Well, let’s make it official.”

His wand slashed through the air, and Hermione screamed.

* * *

Severus watched with horror as Hermione’s brown curls twisted and turned into green, hissing snakes.

He reached for his wand, but it was of no use; his hands kept trembling and no spell he thought of worked.  When the snakes started to sink their fangs in Hermione’s cheeks and neck, wrenching more cries, Severus dropped his wand and jumped at Black.

They fell to the ground with Severus on top, and just when Black opened his eyes, he threw a punch to his nose. Blood exploded in a warm gush, with little droplets landing on Severus’ shirt cuffs and cheek. And Severus smiled, furious and just a tiny bit unhinged.

Severus wanted him to _hurt_ … And this blood wasn’t nearly enough, not after all his jeers and taunts, not after he’d made them feel scared and miserable in their new _home_ …

With a snarl, he drew back, but before he could swing his fist a second time an arm wrapped around his neck and pulled tight against his throat.

“Let him go!” Potter yelled. “I said let go!”

Severus twisted and turned but he couldn’t slip out of Potter’s hold. So he looked down at Black, who was still lying on the ground crying and clutching his bloody nose, and he threw a kick at his face making a nice crunchy sound.

Black made one weak whimper and passed out.

“You ugly, twisted, little…” Potter screamed, pressing harder against Severus’ neck.

“ENOUGH!"

Suddenly, Potter's arm withdrew and Severus dropped to his knees, wheezing and gasping for breath. Through the strands of his hair, he could make out Hermione sitting against the wall, burying her face in her knees, her hair back to its natural state. He made to move towards her when he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and lifted to his feet.

"Not so fast Mr Snape," Professor Slughorn said.


End file.
